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I am so sad and lonely. I know that I have no right to feel this way. I have no right to lament my circumstances when a lot of women in this world aren’t given the opportunity that I am taking for granted right now. But that’s the crux of it. I’m taking it for granted. I feel like I want to curl up in a ball and cry until my eyes fall out. I have no friends, and I have only been here for one week. Everyday I go out with my bright shining face and I say hello and I hug and I wave, and every meal I sit and I eat alone. And the worst thing about it is that it doesn’t have to be this way. I could make friends and I could eat with somebody else if I really wanted to. I could find a way and I could make it happen. I don’t have to sit here feeling sad and lonely. I could get up right now and walk out my door and sit down with two genuinely nice people and have a genuinely nice conversation and my life would be just fine. But do you know what? I can’t walk out that door. The me that is me won’t let me, and the me that is me would be living a lie even if it dreamt about it. The me that is me wants to be held, and wants to be talked to and wants to be loved, and the me that is me thinks that’s all so stupid. I want a man. I want a woman. I want a chance to stop being so sad and so lonely and be the best person in my life. The me that is me won’t let me. I don’t know why it has to be so selfish. It thinks that the whole world is thinking about it and watching it and listening to what it has to say. It sits in the bed at night and looks up at the ceiling and has conversations with itself and wonders what life would be like if it looked this way or acted this way. It is sad because no one truly knows it and no one ever will. I am sad because it is so naïve and so self absorbed. I am sad because I think that writing this will make all the difference. I am sad because I think that writing this will make my headache go away or will make them love me more, or will make me lose weight, or will make me have ‘good’ hair, or will make my brother stop laughing at me or will make this whole feeling disappear along with all the white on this page. The me that is me thinks that I need to stop being so dramatic (like it isn’t) and worry about more important matters like homework, or the Office of International Programs or the Honda Campus All-Star Challenge. I want to think about those things, and I want to believe that I can wrap my head around this aching lonlieness that makes me think of nothing else, and makes the smile that I wear everyday a mask. I want a friend. But it’s more than that. I want a boyfriend that will hold me tight and never let go. I want to feel fulfilled without ever knowing a man’s touch. I want to be successful as an actress, as a writer. I can’t take more than a moment to sit and write what I’ve written down here. The me that is me wants to travel the world, and be a success and love and lose and do all that the world inside of me says I should do. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It shouldn’t hurt. Why does it hurt? Stop hurting. Stop hurting. The me that is me just wants it to stop.